Believe
by Mistress Reigns
Summary: Three members of the Shield, two members of Evolution, and one Paul Heyman Guy among others are forced to combat the dark side of their boss when the otherwise secret dalliance between Hunter Helmsley and Roman Reigns is discovered by the one person who was never supposed to know.
1. Chapter One

_**I've Crossed The Line**_

It was never supposed to last. It was never supposed to _mean_ anything. How it managed to slip his mind that he was walking into a legitimate relationship, he doesn't know; it might have crept past when he was busy having mind-blowing sex with the most beautiful man he's managed to lay eyes on since Shawn walked away. Yeah, that made some sick kind of sense, didn't it?

Or maybe he's just a giant jackass who is going to be spending plenty of time in hell as soon as death rolls around to kick him in the ass. Seems more likely to be the latter because he knows himself far too well. Working here has taught him to know himself better than anyone else, and nothing has changed just because they dragged the Evolution stable out of the mothballs.

Which, why the fuck did they do that anyway? He has no answer for that. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but thinking it over now and he isn't sure he wants to make a commitment for this kind of feud. Even if he can still move in the ring when he has to, he's older, beat down, and quite enjoys having his matches limited to only so many per month if only because he cares about his health. He's had to deal with more action while in this feud, though.

Not that it isn't worth it, in a way. Putting over the next generation of stars is important, and for all his shit talking and "regret," he knows this team will go on to be something great whether they stay together or not. Yes, he is still a little iffy about Rollins, but Shawn more or less called him an idiot for worrying and assured him the kid still needed to develop. He has that time.

_He's still a little green, but fans love him and want him around._ The pause on the other line made him feel like an idiot; it was designed for that. _Just let him work his way up and he'll be fine._

Which Vince wasn't as convinced, but as long as Rollins had _somebody_ on his side, he was in no danger of being shipped back to NXT or, worse, relieved of his contract. Besides, the company was losing all of its smaller guys, and while he doubted them, he knew the fans loved them.

They also, incidentally, loved all three of the guys on the team and would likely go to hell and back to make sure they stayed. That kind of attention can't be taken for granted anymore.

Not to mention all of the heat they've taken for waiting so long to pin the title on Bryan. And it still mildly amuses him that Vince putting McIntyre down hasn't really ruined the guy.

The fans always choose the ones they love, though, and he should know this by now.

Once upon a time, he was that guy they chose over the others, and he remembers that all too well.

But now, it's time to deal with the new guys... And he's done far more than just _deal_ with them.

If Vince ever finds out just how much he's done, he will be ousted from the company and God only knows what the chairman will let slip to the press about his dalliances with the talent.

At least Stephanie already knows and doesn't care. Then again, neither of them have been particularly good at remaining faithful. It was always an understanding not to value fidelity.

But this? This is not good. At least before, he only messed around with guys on about the same level with him, and it never meant anything more than sex. No matter who it happened to be with.

How many times did he tell himself it always had to mean less than emotion because otherwise he would be compromising himself? He can't very well fall in love with someone and be married to the boss's daughter, so he made sure to avoid anyone he felt anything but lust for.

This, though? Is more than lust. It started out as just lust and he was confident he could keep it there because he isn't an idiot and he has done this before. Made for a nice way to pass the time.

It isn't like he's old enough to be his father. Sixteen years of difference isn't that much, right?

The fact he even has to _ask_ himself just shows how pathetic he is and how out of hand this has become since it started. Logically, he should back out of this now and walk away while he still has everything to lose and not after he's lost everything, but he doesn't think he can. Loving from a distance is a hell of a lot more painful than he has the capacity to handle.

He's a piece of shit. No way around it. No matter how he tries to spin this to be something other than his fault, it's his fault just the same. Going after a guy who should have been a fling and turned into something more... He's been more faithful to him than he has to his own wife.

Does that make him more pathetic? He thinks it does. It should, at any rate.

And being this pathetic makes him want to smash his face against a wall until it starts to bleed.

Like right now? He shouldn't be watching bare fists collide with the heavy bag hanging from the ceiling, but he is. He isn't in here to train, considering he's already done that today, and none of his normal buddies are in here. The younger guys are instead, working on beefing up. And he is probably making some of them nervous, but he can't actually bring himself to leave.

Maybe he just needs to bitch Randy into training later in the day with him. They can train at this time, with the younger guys, and then he's a little less creepy, isn't he?

_Are you seriously sitting here and trying to think of a way to be here when he is so you can gawk?_

Yes, he is. His shame must have died somewhere along the line or something. _Damn it._

Dragging his eyes away from his... No, he's not labeling it. Instead, he glances over to where Ambrose is holding onto another heavy bag so Rollins can attempt all sorts of spinning kicks and flips. It's scary and a little breathtaking to watch just how well he can move.

The three of them are so fucking different, really. But they make a great team and he should have learned to appreciate that long ago before he called Shawn to bitch. He really does feel like an ass now, and he is pretty sure his will be handed to him plenty of times during this feud. Hopefully, at any rate. These three need to go over. Luckily, they already are.

He tells himself it's for the business, but that's not entirely true.

He wants them to go over for _them_, which is ironic considering the potential break-up was orchestrated as part of his ideas. Only the fans kept it from happening, really.

And he's glad they kept it from happening because as good as the three of them are apart, they're better together where they can stand in each other's corners and provide that brotherly support.

Not to mention it's nice to know that his... _No. No labels._ Just that _he_ has someone with him.

As if sensing Hunter's thoughts, Roman stops working the heavy bag and rakes a hand through his hair, peeling sweat-sticky strands of long black curls from his face and forcing them back behind his shoulders. He doesn't put his hair up like the others do when he works out, and Hunter has no idea why. He never thought to ask. Asking would lead to talking about their personal lives, and they've done their level best to keep that all out of the bedroom. No, _he_ has done that by trying to manipulate the situation and make damn sure Roman would never be able to instigate a conversation with him. Part of that includes wreaking havoc on the younger man backstage, and nothing quite makes him feel like shit so much as that does.

You can't bully the guy you have sex with and feel good about it. It's just not possible.

Smoky eyes flash in his direction, and he holds the stare for longer than is probably safe especially considering the fact everyone around them will assume it's tension and spread rumors. That's the last thing they need: more rumors. But finally, Roman breaks eye contact and returns to hitting the bag, hard enough to make it swing on its chain. Weighted bags are a bitch in that they move, which is why Ambrose is probably holding the bag for Rollins. Someone needs to hold the back for Roman because he looks like he's about to start hitting it harder.

_Someone_, not him. But he makes that correction long after he's started across the room toward the younger man. Roman's eyes dart up to watch him, flashing with distrust, but Hunter simply stops the bag and turns to face Roman. And of fucking _course_ everyone is now staring at them, trying to puzzle this together without being too obvious about staring in the first place.

He splays a hand across the fabric of the bag, making eye contact with Roman once again while also keeping an eye on his teammates over his shoulder. Ambrose and Rollins are on alert, ready to sprint over and help if need be, but they don't know they have no place in this.

"Someone should hold this for you," he finally says, nodding toward the bag and watching Roman's eyes drift a fraction of an inch. "Make sure it doesn't swing out of control."

The tension leaves Roman's body slightly. "Probably."

"So I'll... Hold it. For you." Hunter steps behind the bag, breaking the eye contact between them, and gets a steady grip on the bag like he's done so many times for other wrestlers.

There is a pause during which he wonders if Roman is going to continue hitting the bag or not, and then the first blow lands and he has to snap his head back or risk getting his nose smashed by the bag. Roman hits hard. He forgets that sometimes, but not right now. Not any time soon.

Something must be wrong with him. He lands hits hard and fast, clearly working out some kind of anger or frustration because this kind of hitting isn't good for training. But Hunter says nothing, not where everyone can hear, and simply holds the bag until the hits stop.

"Roman, man are you o—_Roman._" The sharp tone of Seth's voice is all but ignored as Roman suddenly stalks off, an angry growl ripping from his throat that makes Hunter jump.

Is Roman okay? No. No, he can't be, and that's ultimately why Hunter follows him.

He catches up with him in the unoccupied showers, where Roman has dropped into a sitting position with his head between his knees. Considering no one else is around, Hunter doesn't hesitate to kneel beside him and rest a hand on his back, rubbing in soothing circles.

"Why are you even here?" Roman demands, and Hunter frowns slightly at the words before he has to remind himself it is a fair question. He tries to keep away as much as possible unless they're in the same hotel room, after all. "Why are you watching me? You said—"

Hunter stops him, holding up a hand until that deep voice dies away. "I... I just... Roman, I..."

The lack of words seems to say more than he ever could, because Roman just nods and leans against him. For a moment, it's just the two of them. And it's gone too far, but so fucking be it.


	2. Chapter Two

_**You're Making My Life The Sweetest Hell**_

Times like these are what remind him that this isn't fair to either of them. Their relationship, or whatever this thing between them is, is strained by the fact he can't say a damn word about any of it or risk ruining both of them. But then, he knew he was making this mistake from the start.

Part of him was glad to have it be so anonymous and easy. Neither of them had to commit because it was already an affair, and no one could know. It was easy to slip into each other's hotel rooms because Hunter and Stephanie didn't share and everyone was too tired after a show.

It was a hate fuck to start with, so simple because it was fueled by anger and lust. Things that burn out easily enough. He expected it to burn out rather rapidly and he could go back to his normal life, and Hunter to his, but they ended up hung up on each other. At first, he thought it was just to be expected with something like what they have, but it more or less began to change when the sex changed. It wasn't as rough and tumble. Hunter stopped kicking him out after it was over, and he reciprocated. Not out of courtesy; he didn't want the older man to leave. All of these are warning signs he chose not to heed, and now he is paying the consequences for them.

The fact he has to lie to his best friends, his brothers, only makes things so much worse to him.

He glances up from where he is sitting against the pillows, tracking Hunter's movements as he paces across the room with his cell pressed to his ear, talking to Brad Maddox about something.

Not that Roman cares about following the conversation; he just knows because Hunter told him who called when he checked the caller ID to determine if it was worth answering or not.

As to why he elaborated, Roman isn't sure and he knows he doesn't care. It's just the fact that the consideration is not normal for Hunter, and it's starting to scare him just how often it comes.

The moment the call ends, Hunter is back beside him on the bed but things are not as they were when Roman knocked on the door. He's long since given up coming up with stories for Dean and Seth; they just tell him to be careful, to not get hurt, and let him in when morning comes.

Hunter clears his throat, the sound so rough he might have ingested gravel, then leans forward and brushes a kiss over Roman's shoulder. It's that kind of intimacy that has turned this from casual sex into something that they both know isn't casual. "Something's on your mind, Roe."

His mind hasn't been in the room since earlier that day when Hunter held the heavy bag for him so he could land his hits better. The only reason it was moving so much was because Hunter was watching; he started picking up that habit and Roman started losing control of his hits. Plus, it's a great way to burn out his energy before he can get truly upset. But Hunter had invaded that little sanctuary he created for himself and he can't get his mind off of it. Surely there's nothing the least bit normal about them as it is, but Roman can't really keep his thoughts to himself anymore.

He knows what questions he needs to ask. He needs the answers to keep his sanity. Why have the stakes changed so much for the two of them? Why does Hunter want to spend time with him now, as if they are more than just a pair of closet cases too worried about their self-images to confess the truth about themselves, and each other, to the world? Why is he risking so much by insinuating more contact between the two of them than he did before? Of course they have to work together on their drama for the feud, but Hunter is there more times than he isn't. He works directly alongside him. He doesn't keep his hands to himself anymore; when he wants to show Roman something in particular, he puts his hands directly on him to move him into position. Neither Dave nor Randy think anything of it as far as Roman can tell, but Seth and Dean are starting to notice things. They bristle. They glare. They know better than to trust Hunter, and seeing the man's hands on their teammate doesn't sit well with them at all.

"You don't normally hang around the weight room after you're done. People are starting to notice you acting differently." He doesn't mention that Seth cornered him in the shower one day and demanded to know why Roman wasn't dealing with Hunter's constant attention.

He knows his friends' intentions are pure, that they are seriously concerned for him and worry about him, and he knows he needs to sit down and tell them the truth. Keeping the rest of the world in the dark is one thing, but Seth and Dean have been nothing but patient with him during this and they don't deserve him running off every night without giving them answers. Or chasing them off into other rooms. Or, if they leave by choice, telling them not to come back to their own fucking room until he says it's okay. He needs to at least be honest with them about all of this.

"I don't think I care if they notice anymore," Hunter says, and the pure honesty in his tone is slightly shocking; hasn't he done nothing but dodge the truth and fill in the gaps with as many lies as he can? Excuses, at least, and some lies. "I mean, I know. I know they see it and I know some of them are going to figure it out. But I can't really say I give a damn anymore."

That's frightening to say the least. What he needs to do is lie and say he didn't think about it and they yeah, they need to tone it down. But to say he doesn't care means so many worse things are on the horizon. "Hunter, you need to care that they notice. Because if they notice, and if they see, they're going to figure it out and they'll tell everyone. Do you want that?"

"If you want me to say no, you're going to have to keep holding out for it. I don't know _what_ I want right now, but I don't think I want to keep hiding." Another kiss is dropped on his shoulder, slightly higher than the first, stubble scraping his skin. He's had whisker burns before, though.

"Are you going to be saying that when someone lets the press know and the media turns us into deviants on the front pages of every newspaper and tabloid in the country?" His tone comes out bitter, almost enraged, but Hunter just shrugs and moves his hair back behind his shoulder so he can continue working his way up. "What is your wife going to say? Your father-in-law?"

He just shrugs again, and Roman sighs irritably and turns his eyes away because Hunter is not taking this seriously and he never will if this attitude is anything to go by. Or maybe he is taking this seriously in his own way. They both swore not to let anything grow between them, that this will be just sex and nothing else, but maybe they have failed miserably at keeping their promise.

Funny how he never stopped to think about what he would do if this happened. If somewhere along the line, it stopped being about sex and started being about more. If the rough thrusts rocking his body suddenly mattered less than the way Hunter started tucking his hair back behind his ear in the morning so he could kiss him on the cheek. He never thought. And now this.

He closes his eyes and turns his face away. "It wasn't supposed to turn into this. You promised."

"I didn't keep that promise. I can't even say I wished I kept that promise. Whatever this is, I like this more. I want this more than what came first." Hunter breathes a sigh against his neck.

"What is this, exactly?" Roman forces his eyes open and turns to face Hunter, keeping his jaw tight and his gaze as hard as flint. "What do you see this as when you look at it?"

Hunter shrugs, free hand darting out to mold to Roman's hip. "I see you. All I need to see."

"Don't say that." But there is no bite to the words, and Hunter knows it well enough to kiss him.

Back then, they kissed hard. Teeth knocking together, yanking at clothing. It was never about anything but the fiery passion and the lust, and now it's softer. Gentler. There's a balance to it, and Roman nearly always gives into it because it's oddly soothing and relaxing to be kissed like this. To have Hunter's fingers combing through his hair, cradling the back of his head, holding him and sinking into him. He doesn't normally like this, being treated gently. He's used to pain.

"I'll say whatever I want to whenever I want to," Hunter murmurs when the kiss breaks, and Roman shuts his eyes to close the other man out. "Roman, look at me."

He shakes his head just once. "No. Stop talking like you actually give a damn about me."

"What if I actually do give a damn about you?" Hunter presses. "What then, Roe?"

And that damned nickname. That nickname that was never there before now. He has no idea when Hunter came up with it, can't be expected to remember, but he knows he started noticing it a few weeks ago and committed it to memory because it meant a change had occurred. Seth and Dean have their own nicknames for him, born from fondness and brotherhood, but there is nothing quite like that between him and Hunter. Fondness, yes. He can even admit he's grown fond of the older man as time has passed if only because Hunter is the only one who will never judge him for what he wants. Hunter just gives it to him and takes in return. Perfect symbiosis.

He started needing something different. Hunter started wanting something different. It should have messed up everything, but it didn't. Their symbiosis continued because they still gave each other what the other needed. The fact it had become more about emotion and intimacy, about touching and prolonging the pleasure instead of rushing through it, worries him deeply.

Fucking someone else in the company is one thing, and it brings along its own problems because most people cannot let sex be casual. So many people end up marrying other people in the company, and sometimes it works but sometimes it doesn't. For Hunter, it has worked even if only because he and Stephanie spend their time having sex with different people and using their marriage as a business platform. It makes it work for them. So be it.

But Roman isn't into casual. He still thought he could make this work, make it stay casual.

He's failed at that. Because what they have is so far from casual and nothing he can do is going to change that now. They're both far too deep into this to change anything between them.

Even if he made Hunter walk away right now, neither of them will be able to truly leave this behind. They will be drawn together once again, acting out the same scenarios once more.

It could have been with anyone; why he chose Hunter, he has no idea.

Why Hunter chose him in return is beyond him, but now, they have to deal with this.

And actually putting a name to whatever _this_ is might help in the long run, but right now, Roman still wants to pretend this is nothing but a fuck. Anything else is going to give him a headache.


	3. Chapter Three

_**You Were Amazing**_

Randy wakes up with his face tucked into bi-colored hair and thinks very little of it.

Once upon a time, he might have scoffed at the notion of waking up in bed with another member of the roster, much less another man. He has always been rather secure in his sexuality and never had any reason to question it until the little high flier in his arms moved up from NXT and the two of them—plus four more men—were crammed into a storyline together. How many times did he swear up and down he was never going to be like Hunter, falling into the beds of virtual strangers and good friends just to get his rocks off. And yet he's done just that. Multiple times. Maybe every single day this week, and the one before that, and the one before...

He's an idiot. About the same amount of an idiot that Hunter is now that he stops and thinks about it, but what can he do? He knows the proper thing to do would be to break things off with Seth and move on before it's too late, but it is too late. It's been too late for about... Well, a year now, really. He's used the excuse to Hunter that working closely with Seth is what set him off, but they've been playing this little game almost since the very beginning. Randy laid eyes on Seth in the practice ring, took in those big brown eyes and that teasing little smile, and he had to have him right then and there. Ever since then, it's been this complex little dance between them.

It's become such a problem, too. Much as he enjoys being with Seth, sharing this stolen moments with him, neither of them are satisfied with quick fucks behind closed doors. He's starting to see this the hard way; they both want more of what they know they cannot have. It makes life very fucking complicated, but Randy doesn't know what else to do. Though he wants to ask someone for advice, the few people in his life he can ask would give him muddled answers instead of clear ones because _everyone_ is busy fucking around right now.

He only knows he doesn't want to give Seth up, that having Seth to come to every night makes his life just a little less complicated. Of course, Roman and Dean don't know the truth and likely never will. Even though Dean's little... Relationship? With Cesaro is well-known, at least backstage, Seth fears that his brothers finding out about them will cause them to turn their backs on him. Randy doesn't have the heart to tell him that Roman and Hunter are fucking behind everyone's backs. Mostly everyone's, anyway. Randy has become adept at picking through Hunter's bullshit lies and excuses for the truth, and it really helped the one night where he knocked on Hunter's door and Roman, unthinking, answered it without checking who was there.

_That_ had been an interesting evening indeed. The shock pinging through Randy's system and the realization that struck Roman all at the same moment, creating the perfect atmosphere of awkwardness between the two of them. It only ended when Hunter stepped out of the bathroom, saw the two of them staring at each other, and dragged Randy inside before anyone else could see to tell him what was going on. _Don't give me that look, Orton. It's exactly what you think it is. Shut up. Don't ask questions. Just don't tell anybody because we're not ready to go there yet. If you tell anyone, I will have your career._ Hunter's used that threat like ninety-five times for everything from keeping Roman a secret to stealing a pair of his socks, so it's not like Randy took that part seriously. But he's kept Seth a secret. Tattling seems far too hypocritical.

He sighs and finds his limbs amongst the tangle of their bodies, slowly extricating himself from Seth's embrace so he can push himself into a sitting position. With his back braced against the headboard and his body aching from last night's pay-per-view battle, he feels more clear than he has in a long time. His eyes float over Seth's nude body, picking out bruises from the night before and wincing at the sight of every single one of them. Most of them are likely not his doing; he needs to have a very strict talk with Dave about how rough he is on these boys.

Seth sighs and nuzzles his face into the pillows, fingers curling in the sheets as he seems to search for something to grasp now that Randy is gone. Fondly, Randy cards his fingers through Seth's hair, separating blonde and dark, dark brown as gently as he can without tugging on any knots that have formed during the night. They stumbled into their shared room last night, high on adrenaline from the perfection of the match and tearing at clothes so they could get at the bare skin beneath. He still remembers how Seth sobbed his name when he pushed inside.

But Seth has always been passionate. Willing, open, panting and beginning for more when Randy teases him, swearing that he'll kill him if he doesn't hurry the fuck up. Whining and sobbing when Randy trails little love bites and kisses down the length of his body, leaving little marks that no one will see thanks to how well Seth's ring gear keeps his body covered. Only he sees them, and he wonders if Dean and Roman see them in the locker rooms as well. If they have seen them, then they have to know where those marks have been coming from. Only an idiot would not recognize marks left in the heat of passion, and neither of them are stupid.

As if sensing Randy's thoughts, Seth's eyes slowly flutter open. "It's too early to be awake."

"It's like..." Randy glances at the clock. "Oh shit, it's eight. It really is too early to be awake."

"I told you it was too early to be awake. Lie back down with me. I'm _cold._" Seth whines the last word and pouts, and Randy relents, flopping back down and wrapping himself around Seth's smaller body. Blindly, he snatches for the comforter and drags it over their nude bodies.

Randy smirks and cards his fingers through Seth's hair again, relishing the little mewl he gets in return; Seth enjoys being petted just like a kitten, and it's endlessly sexy even though most people find it weird. "Hush. Am I supposed to know you magically know the time?"

Seth mumbles something unintelligibly and nuzzles his face against Randy's chest; Randy turns his attention to the bruises again, splaying his hand over a particularly large one on Seth's hip. This one is probably just from a landing, but he's still uncomfortable seeing it there on Seth's dark skin. Even if he didn't directly cause it, he knows it's his fault it's there.

"You're doing the thing again, Orton," Seth remarks without even opening his eyes, slapping Randy's hand away from his hip. "Don't _do_ that. I'm not fragile. I'm not gonna break."

"I still feel like shit seeing you marked up like this. I don't want you to get _hurt_ even if it is part of the job. Especially not when I'm the one who has to do it." Okay, so he feels hellishly guilty about all of this and probably always will. God, can this storyline just _end?_

Seth sighs against his skin. "I know. But it's just what it is. Cesaro's probably pissed, too."

"But he's not the one actually marking you guys up. He doesn't have to lie in bed and wonder if this one..." He brushes the one on Seth's hip. "Or this one..." A darker one on his ribs. "Is his doing. If he's managed to hurt the man he loves when he doesn't want to do that."

"Pretty sure most of these are from Dave, actually. Son of a bitch got rough with all of us." Seth's voice is a low snap and Randy honestly sympathizes with him.

_If Roman is marked up half as bad as this, Hunter is probably going to kill him for it. God, I hope he lets me help. We've told him too many fucking times for none of it to get through to him and it keeps ending in one, two, or all three of them being too hurt for their own good._

Randy sighs and sifts his fingers through Seth's hair again, careful not to tug on the knots because that'll just piss Seth off more. "Hunter and I'll talk to Vince about cutting down his involvement in this storyline to something minimal. At the very least, we'll find a way to make sure he doesn't get to powerbomb any of you any time soon. If he botches one more..."

"He's gonna break someone's neck," Seth finishes, voice low and bitter. Angry, too.

"I won't let Vince keep this up," Randy promises. He's been here long enough to have some sway with Vince, and Hunter definitely has a lot of sway. Being big names helps. "At the very least, he'll probably cut the amount of actual wrestling down. Wouldn't want to kill anyone."

Seth scoffs and tilts his head up, dark eyes flashing with something akin to fury. "Wouldn't want to kill his _investment_, maybe. We're all getting pushed too damn hard."

Yeah, they are. Randy nods in agreement before laying a gentle kiss on Seth's lips, willing the smaller man to relax and sighing softly when he does. Better. Much better. Keeping Seth calm after a brutal match is a battle and a half, but he wants to make sure Seth doesn't get angry.

He has every right to be angry because he and his brothers are getting battered in the ring when they obviously deserve better. Instead, Randy has the task of keeping him calm and kissing the fight out of him until Seth is soft and pliant against him, the tension leaving his muscles.

"You taste different when you're mad," Randy muses, cupping the back of Seth's neck and nuzzling just under his jaw. "Hotter, somehow. Spicier. Can't really put my finger on it."

Seth smirks up at him and Randy kisses that smirk away, his hand sliding slowly up and down Seth's battered, bruised side with a gentle touch so as not to aggravate the injuries further. Truth be told, the last thing he's ever wanted to do is hurt Seth and being forced into a position where he has to do so in order to keep his job is starting to tear him apart. Maybe he needs to make it perfectly clear to Vince that wrestling against the Shield needs to stop as soon as possible.

"Mm." Seth smiles up at him lazily, dragging his tongue across his lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Randy pulls Seth forward, brushing a kiss over the corner of his mouth. "Good to see you're finally calming down. I don't like it when you're so tense and angry."

Seth sighs, then nuzzles his face against Randy's chest. "Then it's probably a good thing I have you to calm me down when I get upset. Just go back to sleep with me. I'm still really tired."

Randy smiles and nods before letting Seth curl up against his chest, smoothing his fingers through Seth's soft hair as he feels the other man drift off in his arms. Moments like this make his job worth it. Watching Seth drift away, face smoothing out peacefully, is enough to convince Randy he knows what he's doing and they can make this, whatever this is, work out just fine.

He makes a mental note to take Hunter aside, though, and tell him they need to go directly to Vince before something terrible happens to their lovers. If they get punished for it, so be it. That's better than any of the Shield ending up with broken necks or cracked skulls. Dave needs to be taken out of the ring as much as possible—he's retirement age anyway—and the Shield needs to take a breather. Less wrestling, more stupid talking or whatever. Just something to make sure they get a chance to relax. Because if something happens to Seth? Randy won't relent.


	4. Chapter Four

_**When Your Fingers Touch My Skin**_

Seth is one of the only people who knows how to cross-fit train correctly and he tells himself _that_ is why Randy comes to watch him. It isn't because they mean anything to each other because the two of them are just casual no matter how many times the two of them pop off with _I love you_ in the bedroom. The fact that is the only place either of them is comfortable saying it says more than the fact they say it at all. At least, as far as Seth is concerned. It's just one big game.

He catches the towel Randy tosses him when his workout is done, mopping the sweat away from his face as he works on catching his breath. How much longer is this going to go on? The two of them certainly are well-suited for each other and they have amazing chemistry in the ring on the off chance they get to work with each other in the squared circle. Out of all of Evolution, Seth would rather work with Randy and not just because he knows the Viper is not going to end up injuring him or pushing him far beyond his limits. Dave and Hunter need to work more.

The two of them are the only ones in the gym at the moment and Seth prefers it this way; he can easily cross the distance between them and wrap a hand around the back of Randy's neck, pressing their foreheads together so they inhale the same air. Even if he doesn't love Randy—really, Seth doubts he is capable of loving someone at this point in his life—he still enjoys being with the older man and the sex is amazing. No reason to end things or strain things when, so far, things have been going just fine. And it helps having an in when it comes to Evolution because Seth can prep his boys earlier than just the meager amount of time Hunter gives them. Maybe it's a form of cheating, but it's no more cheating than the Authority abusing their power.

"You looked so damn sexy when you were training," Randy muses, reaching for Seth's hair.

Normally, he fights it off but instead, he just tilts his head so Randy can worm the elastic band out of his hair, spilling blond and brown curls around his face. "Can't really do anything about that, can I? Good to know you enjoyed the show, though. Considering how often you've seen it."

"I could never get tired of watching you train." Randy smirks down at him and Seth's stomach tightens at the low purr in those words. "You're so damn graceful. It's not even fair."

"Oh, yeah, me being graceful isn't fair. Did you forget the fact I kind of need that to fight off guys twice as big as me?" Seth teases, shifting so he can wrap both arms around Randy's neck.

Randy shakes his head and his expression shifts from playful to serious. "No. That's one thing I'll never be able to forget. You were safer in NXT, you know. A lot of the guys there were right around your size. Less chance of someone just bulldozing you without realizing it."

"They realize what they're doing," Seth argues softly. "You know they do, Randy."

"I'd rather pretend they didn't so I have less people to beat the living hell out of when I get a chance in the ring with them. You don't deserve to get hurt like that." Randy sighs softly.

Seth rolls his eyes and tilts his head, ghosting his lips over Randy's and breathing a soft breath across his lips. Best to keep him nice and calm before he has a chance to boil over and truly rage. "I understand your concern, but right now, I'm capable of taking care of myself in the ring."

"That's because you're one tough little badass," Randy muses, and Seth chuckles softly at him.

"Tough enough to earn some alone time with you in the shower?" Seth takes a step back, keeping his arms around Randy's neck so as not to break the link between them. "Yes or no?"

Randy's hands are on his hips, pulling him closer, burning his skin. "Absolutely."

It's then, of course, that Randy's phone rings and Seth wrinkles his nose in disgust at the tone.

Hunter's ring tone is his current theme: "King of Kings." Seth breaks away so Randy can answer the phone, shrugging out of his sweat-soaked t-shirt and tossing it in the general direction of his bag. Much as he loves spending time with Randy, having it interrupted by the COO of all people is still the most annoying thing Seth has to deal with on a normal basis for several reasons.

"Nice to hear from you, too, Hunter. No, I didn't—What? Hunter, no. I don't want to… Are you serious? Well, what if I don't agree to that? Then what are you going to do?" Randy demands.

Seth rolls his eyes and grabs a fresh towel before heading for the shower.

Much as he just _loves_ his job, his boss is a dick and everyone knows it. The fact the guy doesn't even give his own goons a little private time between matches makes it that much worse.

Maybe the guy just needs to get laid to get the stick out of his ass.

By the time Randy does arrive, Seth has more or less scrubbed down and is just allowing the hot water to soothe the ache in his muscles. He doesn't hear the footsteps over the spray and jumps when Randy's hands are sliding around his hips to rest on his stomach, pulling him back.

"Business sucks, doesn't it?" he asks, leaning his head back against Randy's shoulder. Warm, wet skin on warm, wet skin is heaven and he has no desire to break up this moment. But still, just staying silent does seem… Right. "Tell me he isn't going to call while you're in here with me."

Randy laughs against his neck before placing a kiss there and Seth shivers, shifting back to press his ass against Randy's cock. He's blessedly hard and Seth is glad because he has no desire to play games with the Viper. "I turned the phone off so if he does, it's a goddamn miracle."

He spins Seth around and presses him up against the wall, and Seth spreads his legs wide to accommodate the much larger man. With ease, Randy lifts him and pins him up against the wall, the shock of the cold tiles at his back drawing a hiss from his lips. They quickly warm against his skin and Randy seizes his lips in a harsh kiss, drowning out any more complaints he might have about the wall. Seth moans, wrapping his arms tight around Randy's neck once again.

They leave the shower with yet another workout under their belts… Just of a different variety.

Back at the hotel room, Roman and Dean are sprawled across the beds and lying in quiet, not silence. Dean is on his cell phone, muttering to himself as he taps out messages that are most likely ending up on the screen of the phone belonging to the company's beloved Swiss Superman. How Dean of all people is managing to keep up a relationship is beyond Seth, but he knows better than to question it or push it because if it works for Dean, then he supports it. All he wants for Dean is happiness, and if Dean has found it even with an unlikely person, then he deserves it and Seth will walk through fire to ensure he gets a chance to keep it.

Roman's phone vibrates, the screen coming to life. Silently, Seth watches him retrieve the device and unlock the screen, eyes scanning whatever message has arrived. It's the Mystery Person, then, because Roman stands up, sweeps a hand through his hair, and looks between the two of them. "I'm going out. I'll be back before the match tonight. I'll see you guys in a few hours."

Neither Dean nor Seth say anything, but at this point neither of them need to and Roman seems to understand because he simply leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Seth waits a beat before sitting down on Roman's unoccupied bed, combing his fingers through his damp hair and wondering if he has any right to judge Roman at this point. Whoever Roman is running to, he's not running to the enemy. He isn't running to Randy Orton. He isn't ending up in the bed of a man who seems determined to break him when they enter the ring only to put him back together as soon as doors are closed and locked and the lights in the room are sufficiently dim.

"He's fucking somebody behind our backs and I don't like it," Dean announces without lifting his eyes from his phone, and for once Seth genuinely sympathizes with their neurotic teammate. Like a true brother, Dean told them the truth from the very beginning. Now, both Seth and Roman are lying to him. "Who do you think it is? Fuck, Seth, I don't like this. Someone could be hurting him and we don't know anything about it. I _really_ don't like this. Not at all."

Makes sense, of course. Roman _can_ get hurt playing this game he's playing, but Seth highly doubts Roman is in a position where his physical health might be at jeopardy. If it was something like that, no matter _who_ the person was, Roman would tell them and come to them because first and foremost, the Shield is a family and they defend each other to the very end. Nothing will ever change about that and they all know it. Even when dissension almost broke them, they managed to hold themselves together and they always will. Which, of course, begs the question of why both Roman and Seth feel so uncomfortable with admitting the truth. Seth knows why he does, of course: his brothers would _never_ forgive him for sleeping with Randy Orton.

He lies back on the pillows and fixes his eyes on the cracked plaster of the ceiling, wondering how he would even go about telling the truth to the men who serve as his true family. Dean would be furious with him, caught between feeling betrayed because Seth has lied and feeling betrayed because Seth has lied in order to keep up a relationship with Randy. In Dean's eyes, Evolution is truly the enemy and nothing will sway him from this knowledge. That might be why he ended up with Cesaro, someone so far-removed from their storyline it's incredible, really.

Weight sinks the mattress down and then Dean is lying next to him on his side, head propped up on one hand. Seth looks over at him, silently asking the question he knows Dean wants him to ask. "I don't know. I honestly have no idea. I kept turning the idea over in my mind and I just… I keep thinking it might be someone who's hurting him or intimidating him to keep him quiet."

"Roman isn't likely to let himself be bullied into silence," Seth reminds Dean quietly.

"Then why else is he hiding it from us like this?" Dean's voice takes on that poetic cadence it so often does when he gets upset. "We're his brothers. Why would he hide this from us?"

Seth rolls onto his side and gently pets Dean's arm, trying to soothe him. "Embarrassment?"

Dean seems to consider, his eyes glazing over for a moment. "I know it sounds stupid, but… Do you think that it might be Triple H? Like, I know we hate him and he hates us, but…"

"I think that's who it is, yeah," Seth admits. And he does. Because he knows he's with Randy.

"Fuck. That's so fucked up I don't want to think about it." Dean flops over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Roman wouldn't do that, though, would he? Do you think he would? I don't."

_I do._ "Well, unless we walk in on it or he finally decides to tell us, we're never going to know. All we can do is stand by his side and support him no matter _who_ he's fucking around with."

Dean breathes a sigh but nods and Seth relaxes, knowing he still has Dean on Roman's side and the Shield is not going to fall apart tonight. Ever since Roman began cleverly keeping this secret from them, the threat of everything they have built falling apart is very real. Seth doesn't want that. He wants them to win. He wants to be a Tag Team Champion again. He wants Dean to get his United States Championship back. He wants Roman to be the WWE World Heavyweight Champion. They can't do that if they are divided and conquered.

But for now, nothing is going to divide them. For now, things will be okay. After their match tonight, Seth can put more focus on breaking Roman of this secret because if he keeps it much longer, Dean is going to lose it one way or another. Dean needs to know this more than Roman needs to hide this, and if Roman can't see that, Seth will have to make him.

The last thing he wants to do is risk losing his brothers when the three of them need each other.


	5. Chapter Five

_**When You Treat Him Wrong**_

Going against what Paul wants usually causes more trouble than he feels the desire to deal with, but Cesaro is tired of just constantly following the man's rules about _his_ relationship.

He hugs his jacket tighter around himself as he walks down the street, ignoring the slight chill in the air as he scans the people around him. Though he can spot Dean easily in a crowd—the overly long hair that falls into his face, the neurotic twitching, the manic blue eyes—he still feels like he might miss him. He's spent so little time with his own lover lately that it sickens him and he sort of wishes he never has to end up leaving Dean just to ensure he can find happiness with somebody. It doesn't help that both Barrett and O'Shaunessy have been in his ear about making it work and ignoring his manager because _Dean's not stupid enough to stay around if you don't_ and _He has no reason to trust you if you can't tell Heyman to fuck off._

As if he doesn't know this. People don't give him enough credit; he knows five fucking languages so of course he's markedly more intelligent than the average person. He knows Dean is going to grow agitated and demand more than Paul will allow him to give… And he will have to make a very difficult decision between the two of them that _will_ cause him trouble.

A hand catches him by the back of his jacket and yanks him into one of the various dark, dirty alleys, shoving him up against the wall while a mouth crashes into his. He doesn't hesitate to respond, shoving his tongue into the mouth moving eagerly against his, hands catching a generous ass clad in black denim as the other man climbs his body, strong legs wrapped tightly around his waist while rough hands grab the neck of his hoodie. It's rough and hard and a hell of a lot more violent than he thought he could ever like it, but he _does._ Enough to spin them around and shove Dean up against the brick walls, shifting so one arm is looped beneath his forcefully spread thighs so Cesaro can get his free hand in that messy chestnut hair. They stay like that for a bit, tongues and teeth clashing until Dean finally breaks it and pulls back, panting harshly. His eyes glint with approval and Cesaro can't help the smirk that tugs at his lips as he stares the younger man down, keeping him pinned. This has been a test and yet again, he has passed with flying colors. Dean's tests aren't too much for him, at least.

"Sorry it took me so long," he says, letting Dean down once they have their breath back. "Meetings and shit to deal with. What did you want to talk to me about?"

Dean tugs his hood up before shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Walk with me. It's gonna take me a few minutes to hash shit out until it makes sense. But I'm fucking pissed at Roe and I couldn't just lie there with Seth and not want to smash someone's skull in."

They fall into step beside each other, Cesaro pausing to lift his hood as well before he links his arm with Dean's. Then his hands go into his pockets; they can be any random two men walking down the street together and for now, none of the odd people seem to know who they are. _Good._ They are out backstage but not on the main stage and until they are, Cesaro plans on keeping things as quiet as possible. The most _passionate_ Dean Ambrose fan girls are insane enough as it is, probing into his personal life; they don't need to know the truth just yet.

"Roman is fucking somebody and he won't tell us who it is or why he's not telling us who it is," Dean finally says, voice pitched low so only Cesaro will catch the cadence of his words.

_Ah, this again._ "He's an adult, _schäri_. You can't expect him to tell you every little thing."

"But he's hiding shit," Dean objects. "And that can't be good. Roe doesn't need to hide shit."

"Maybe he's only hiding it because you are so determined to know," Cesaro suggests lightly.

Dean huffs and shakes his head, kicking a stray empty coffee cup out of their path and into the street. "I don't care if he's pissed because I want to know why he's hiding this. He could be getting fucking abused by some twisted fucker and I want to know. If he's getting his lights knocked out, how the hell am I gonna just sit there and fucking let him go back to this guy?"

"Are you sure abuse is involved? Maybe he's more… Ashamed of you finding out who his mystery lover is." Cesaro raises an eyebrow at him, noting how Dean won't meet his eyes.

He isn't sure, then. Left to his own devices, Dean has turned Roman's lover into a monster simply because he doesn't have a name or a face. It's a neurotic tendency to be sure and Cesaro wishes he can soothe the worry from his darling's mind so Dean will realize all of this is truly none of his business. Roman is probably only hiding this because he fears his brothers will turn on him if they know the truth, and Cesaro can relate to that and understand it as well. He wasn't sure how he felt when Dean confessed the truth to the roster by simply walking up to him and kissing him after he won the Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royal. It worked out in the end.

"You know, the fact he isn't saying shit is saying more than saying shit actually would," Dean finally says, shrugging off Cesaro's words as he usually does when they don't fit in with his views and ideas. It's just a Dean Ambrose thing. "I didn't do this to him. The first time I fucking kissed you, I walked right into our locker room and told Roman and Seth that I did it."

_Ah, the first kiss._ That had been even before the Battle Royal back when Cesaro still (somewhat) proudly wore his Real American persona. How it happened is still beyond him; he was slightly worn out from whatever match he had had that night and somehow ended up bumping into Dean somewhere in the backstage area. That part of the arena had been blessedly empty and for whatever reason, Dean asked him if they could talk for a moment. It became clear what he wanted when as soon as Cesaro agreed, Dean leaned forward and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

He still remembers the scent of Dean's skin and how his lips had trembled ever so slightly as if he feared being pushed away, rejected. But Cesaro could never reject Dean. "And Roman is not you. He was not raised as you were. You grew up in a rather shameless environment where a person's vices were as exposed as their faces. Roman was raised in a more docile world."

That, at least, is something Cesaro knows is a fact because he has met Roman's family and listened to Dean tell the stories of his childhood. Lying in a smoky Florida bedroom, watching Dean fumble his way through a pack of cigarettes shared with Sami Callihan because Sami always came to see them when they were in Florida, he had told the stories of being on the streets and abandoned by his drug addict of a mother. And how Roman's mother more or less adopted him into her family within an hour of meeting him and seeing how Roman loved him.

Dean finally huffs in annoyance and shakes his head, clearly done with the subject since Cesaro is one of the only people who refuses to pacify him by simply agreeing with him. He frees a hand, shoves it into his hood to push his hair back. "Wanna find somewhere to be alone?"

"You know I enjoy being alone with you, _schäri_." Which is a yes, and Dean takes the lead.

They somehow end up in a secluded cluster of trees in a public park, only it's much too cold to be in a park so the only occupants are a homeless woman sleeping on a bench and two or three bundled-up people walking their dogs. Cesaro chooses the widest tree and presses Dean against it, their hooded heads bent close together as they exchange warm breath for just a moment of time before their lips meet. It's not like before because this isn't a test; this is Dean being vulnerable and needing him to take over and handle it. Since Dean gives this vulnerability to no one else, Cesaro doesn't complain and simply braces his hands on the trunk, keeping Dean between himself and the aging oak as lips give way to tongue. Still slow and sweet and gentle, and he misses this so much when the two of them are forced to be apart.

Dean tastes like rain and air, like he's barely substance and will fade away with Cesaro doesn't keep him still and hold him close. Like one moment he'll be there and the next gone, leaving Cesaro wondering if he was ever there in the first place. He knows part of it is how very little time they have alone together and he knows he can fix it if he just tells Paul to leave him alone. All he has to do is put his foot down and make the decision that _yes,_ Dean _is_ more important than his career, but he can't bring himself to do it and it makes him feel sick.

He leaves Dean's slick, kiss-swollen lips behind and moves toward his throat instead, butterfly kisses at first before he starts sucking the skin into his mouth, laving it with his tongue and nipping it with his teeth. There will be marks and he doesn't give a fuck; everyone who needs to know will know where they came from and the fans can continue to speculate if Dean has a girlfriend or not. Cesaro sighs against his throat, tracing over Dean's trembling pulse with the tip of his tongue and wondering what it costs Dean to give him this piece of himself.

"You know," Dean muses when Cesaro pulls back, his hands wrapped around the back of Cesaro's head and only allowing him to go a few inches so their noses brush slightly as he tilts his head, showing Dean he's listening, "I'm getting really tired of having to fight your manager for you. Shouldn't I get you by default and he needs to be the one who asks nicely?"

Cesaro bites his lower lip and tries to think of how to phrase what he wants to say as politely as he can so as not to accidentally hurt Dean's feelings. The last thing he wants to do is wound the man he's come to fall in love with. At least they're on the same page about that; they've been together for far too long to not be at this point. "I know. I know I need to set stronger boundaries with him, but it is extremely difficult when he breathes down my neck for attention every time I turn my back to him. You actually handle it much more maturely than he does."

The last bit is supposed to be a joke but Dean's wry half-smile says it hurts more than it humors and Cesaro kisses him, trying to erase the intangible. Dean responds after a moment and they kiss a bit more, Dean opening to him and giving himself while Cesaro simply tries to urge him to let himself go. Even if he and Dean rarely spend time together, he tries to ensure they waste no time when they are together and so he continues nudging at Dean's walls, coaxing them down bit by bit. It's all he can do when it comes to Dean, and so he does it carefully.

"Just try to make more time for me and I'll be okay with it," Dean says when they break apart, and Cesaro nods, a silent promise to make more time. He can't give Dean as much as both of them want, but he can work to give Dean more and hopefully that will do.

They linger in the park for a few moments longer before returning to the street, holding hands in spite of the chill in the air and talking about the show tonight. _Raw_ is hectic because it is live and so much can go wrong in a matter of seconds if not carefully executed. Dean is up to defend his title again, though no one has told him what the exact terms of the match will be or who his opponent is; they desire his live reactions too much to give him much of anything to work with. Cesaro is facing Rob Van Dam for reasons he isn't quite sure about and he doesn't really want to, but Heyman keeps hammering what a good opportunity is so he tries to just let it go.

Once they return to the hotel, they take the elevator to Cesaro's floor and find themselves standing outside the door. "Invite me inside," Dean whispers, eyes gone dark with lust.

"Would you like to come inside? I would very much enjoy having your company until tonight." Cesaro skims his knuckles along Dean's jaw, his skin rasping against the stubble there.

"You gonna fuck me if I say yes?" Dean licks his lips and his twitching is more pronounced, his eyes darting almost frantically as his excitement begins to mount. "Because I want that. I want you to pin me down on the bed and stretch me and use me. I need it like I need fucking _air._"

Cesaro licks his lips slowly at the image and nods. "I will give you exactly what you need."

"Then fuck yeah I'll come in." Dean smirks up at him and Cesaro slides his keycard through, shoving the door open and fisting a hand in the front of Dean's hoodie to drag him inside.

Dean is naked in moments, all long limbs and pale skin and shuddering sighs of pleasure and need and it isn't what either of them agreed to. There's nothing rough about it. Cesaro takes his time undoing Dean, then opens him up with as much care and consideration as he can before finding himself deep inside of Dean, stretching him and filling him and fulfilling their true needs.

They end up tangled in the sheets, sharing the same air. He needs to make more time for this.

* * *

_**A/N: So it's extremely encouraging to have you guys behind this. Whether it's just because Randy/Seth is pretty hot (Randy like held the Big Show up for Seth to curb stomp him, be still my beating heart) or because I've given you a soft spot for Hunter (best damn heel in this business right now okay), I am just really, really happy to have you guys here. I'm so blessed to have such wonderful readers. Thank you.**_


	6. Chapter Six

**_You Are Never Going To Live This Down_  
**

Dean knew this was going to happen, but nothing can soften the blow as he heads backstage toward the locker room in a numb stupor. No matter how he tries to coax himself out of this low spot, he knows nothing is going to be able to fix this for him. He carried that belt for months and is the longest-reigning champion; why did he have to lose it now? Why can't he just keep carrying it? The Authority never seemed to give a damn about him carrying it in the first place, and now he has no idea how to feel about any of this. It was fun at first. Now, it's not fun.

As soon as he steps into the private locker room set aside for his boys, someone surges forward and embraces him—_Cesaro._ He squeezes his eyes shut and leans into the older man's arms, breathing him in as he tries to center himself. Why did it have to be this way? Why did it have to be to Sheamus? Dean is a _good_ champion no matter what everyone says about him; he does what he's asked to do and his matches are solid. Why is he being punished for doing exactly what he was told to do for _months?_ If it's to make Evolution look like more of a threat or something, _fuck_ all three of them and their preconceived notions about who the top stable around here is.

Sure, he hasn't been able to defend it as many times as he would prefer, but that doesn't mean he didn't want to defend it. How many times did he remind booking that they needed to put him in more matches to defend his title so the fans would see him as a true champion? This is _not_ his fault and yet he can't help but feel as though everything that just happened in that ring is his fault. What is he going to do now that he's lost his championship?

When Cesaro steps back, Dean is unsurprised to see Roman and Seth already sitting on the benches and just staring at anywhere but his direction. He knows neither of them want to set him off—he's precariously close to the edge as it is, but still. It hurts knowing they're afraid of him going off on them. None of this is their fault; neither of them can help him without risking trouble for themselves, anyway. They do their jobs just like he does, and he will never hold that against them. Sighing softly, he pecks Cesaro on the lips and drops down beside Seth, wrapping an arm around Seth's shoulders and squeezing him in an awkward hug.

Seth flashes a smile up at him and Dean nods, silently reassuring his brother everything is going to be just fine. After all, they still have each other. They still have the Shield, and nothing is going to take that away from him. If anything, their unity staying strong through this is just proof that they'll be able to overcome everything. He never would have expected being pushed into a stable with another breakout indie star and a guy greener than just about anyone else in the company would have worked out so well, but it has. And at the very least, Dean knows that he has his brothers, and that is worth more than a stupid gold-plated belt anyway.

"I'm tired of facing the Wyatt Family," Roman finally says, breaking the silence just as Cesaro lowers himself down on Dean's free side. "I really am. Like, I understand why we have to face them, but I'm tired of it." He reaches into his bag and extracts his phone, and the way his eyes flicker and brighten just pisses Dean off. _Who the fuck are you talking to, motherfucker?_

"It'll be a good match," Cesaro offers, which is true. The Wyatt Family is good. But still.

Dean scrubs a hand over his face, more or less smearing the sweat around instead of actually wiping it off. "Don't think I'm up for a main event match after losing my belt like that."

"You did good, _schäri._" Cesaro takes his hand and squeezes it. "You lasted so, so long."

The door flies open and Dean's head jerks up; he narrows his eyes when he realizes Heyman is standing in the doorway of a locker room he has no authority in. A low growl leaves Dean's throat and only Seth's hand falling on his arm keeps him from flying across the small room and knocking Heyman's head off his neck. Why the hell is this bald fucker showing up in _their_ room? Then Dean realizes Cesaro's match is next up on the card and blows out a harsh breath, the very little good feelings building up inside of him tumbling back down. Now is _not_ the time.

"Your match is up next. You need to be in gorilla right now waiting," Heyman says, leaning his shoulder against the doorway and Dean just wants to wipe the smug smirk off of his fat face.

Cesaro sighs and shakes his head. "Paul, now is not the time. Dean needs me right—"

"I saw the match," Paul says. "And I plan on seeing yours. Come on. We have to go _now._"

"I'll be back as soon as my match is over," Cesaro murmurs, pressing a kiss to Dean's cheek.

When the door swings shut behind the tall Swiss man, Dean shoves himself off of the bench and starts pacing across the room, yanking at his hair in frustration. _Why?_ Why the fuck did Cesaro have to get involved with Heyman and turn their relationship into such a mess? They literally cannot get anything done because Heyman is always there to tear his beloved client away, needing him for something or other and absolutely _none_ of it can wait. His career is important, Dean will never begrudge him it, but damn it, can't he have his boyfriend for a few minutes?

And fucking Roman never knows when to keep his mouth shut. "He just keeps leaving you."

"Do not fucking go there, Roe." Dean whirls around to face him. "Where's your guy at, then?"

"I don't have a boyfriend, Dean. You know that," Roman says quietly.

_You fucking lying little bitch._ "Bullshit. You're walking out on us almost every night for him."

"There's no one there, Dean." Roman glares at him. "Maybe I just need time away from _you._"

Dean growls and his hands snap shut into fists, the pressure of his anger reverberating through his body as he considers how much trouble he will get into if he breaks Roman's nose. Probably a lot more than he has time to deal with, but he is exhausted and Roe wants to make smart ass remarks to him about his boyfriend when the guy can't even be honest with him and Seth anymore. And Dean was honest with both of them about Cesaro. Can he seriously not be allowed to expect the same courtesy in return? Is he that fucking gullible or something?

"You know, you got a lot of room to talk about needing time away from me. You're always away from me, Roman. Every night, you're gone. Even during the day sometimes. We used to train together. What the fuck happened to that?" He walks right up into the big man's personal space, shoving himself in Roman's face because he can. "You're not telling us anything when we've been honest with you about ourselves. Did I lie to you when I started with Cesaro?"

Roman's smoky eyes narrow up at him. "If there was anything to tell Dean, I'd let you know."

"So you're not running off to see someone even though your phone goes off right before you leave?" Dean fires back, noting the apprehensive light that enters Roman's eyes before he glares.

"No." Roman's jaw tightens. "There's no one I'm running to. You'll have to accept that."

Dean's eyes light on the phone setting next to Roman on the bench. "All right. If there's no one, then you'll hand your phone over to me and prove that there's no one. Won't you?"

At once, Roman's hand darts out and covers the phone, dragging it right up against his thigh and Dean _knows_ he's lying through his teeth. Roman won't show him the phone because it holds proof that there really is someone in his life, and why he won't trust Dean and Seth with that information, Dean has no idea. Don't you tell your brothers about things like this?

"You're not going to show me your phone, are you?" Dean asks quietly, watching Roman's face.

"No." Roman stands, shoving Dean back with size alone. "There's nothing to see, Ambrose."

Seth stands then and worms his way between them, something of a feat considering they both have a noticeable size advantage over him. "Look, Roman, you're hiding something from us and we're not happy about it. _But_ we're also not going to pressure you or force you into telling us what it is. If you feel that we need to know, you'll tell us. But I really hope you do tell us at some point because Dean's right. We're your brothers. You're supposed to have trust in us."

Dean smirks and shakes his head. Seth has all of the guilt skills of a Jewish grandmother and he can see Roman waver before throwing his walls back up and sitting back down on the bench.

"Well." Seth clears his throat. "I guess I'm going to go… Take a walk or something. Later."

He leaves the room and the tension is at least momentarily gone. Dean thinks about making up some lame excuse for leaving but just goes, planning on hunting down a backstage monitor so he can watch Cesaro's bout with RVD. As tired as he is of Heyman constantly jacking his boyfriend when he needs him or just wants him, there's no way Dean would purposefully miss a match and he's enthralled with Cesaro's in-ring ability. It's the best of both worlds, being able to cheer for him and admiring him for all of the skill he has in the ring even if his chemistry with RVD sucks.

No sooner does he round the corner when he starts hearing soft voices nearby, tucked out of the way but still just barely audible. Frowning, he presses himself against the wall and inches onward, stopping when he spots a shadowy little alcove where it looks like—Is that Seth and fucking _Orton_ of all people? Dean frowns when he sees Seth pinned up against the wall, wholly prepared to jump the bigger man if only to make sure his brother is okay because no way is their interaction with Evolution friendly even backstage. He's braced to pounce when Orton's hand falls to Seth's jaw, fingers sifting through the rough hairs there and forcing Seth's head to tilt back at the same time. Or is he forcing him? Dean would've bet on force until Orton's head dips down and their lips brush, a breath slipping between them before they mold together concretely and Seth leans up into it, a needy little noise rising in his throat just loud enough for Dean to hear.

There's no way he's interrupting this. Instead, Dean creeps in the other direction and locates a spot where a few other people are gathered, watching Cesaro walk out to the ring. Dean falls in with them and tries very, _very_ hard not to think about what he just saw back there. It's none of his business but damn does it make Seth look like a dirty fucking hypocrite.

Cesaro is in good form like always, but Dean's brows scrunch every time he turns to Heyman for assistance, letting the snake whisper suggestions in his ear. Since when has Cesaro ever needed anyone to tell him how to do his job? It makes him look bad and Dean makes a mental note to convey that to him before this gets much more out of hand. How is Cesaro going to be a convincing heel if he can only do his thing with help from a cocky bastard like Paul Heyman?

The unprovoked assault at the end of the match—Cesaro hanging RVD up on the ropes and just beating the fuck out of him—is so sudden that it unsettles Dean. He walks away from the television just as Heyman drags Cesaro away from RVD. This is bad. So very fucking bad.

He gets all of halfway there when Seth is suddenly in his path, knocking into him and stumbling back. "Christ, Dean, where the hell are you going in such a hurry?"

"Pretty sure Cesaro just fucking lost it in the ring and I want to make sure he's okay. And not, y'know, killing someone." Dean laughs but it sounds disjointed to his ears and he's not surprised when Seth winces. "I've never seen him like that before. Like, Rob got hung up on the ropes and Cesaro just starting beating him in the face. I'm pretty sure Heyman just saved him from getting fired or something. It was fucking vicious, man. Like, hardcore vicious."

Seth's eyes widen and he grabs Dean by the upper arms, gloved fingers digging into his skin and grounding him. _Fuck, Rollins, let me go. I need to see if something's wrong with him before Helmsley shows up to scream at him for this shit._ "Just be careful. I know he wouldn't hurt you but I don't want you to be there if he loses it and starts, like, beating the fuck out of someone."

"I'll get out of there if that happens," Dean says, shaking Seth off as gently as he can.

He growls when Seth moves to stop him from continuing past him. "I mean it, Dean. If shit goes down, come back to the locker room and you can wait there for him to cool down. Okay?"

"I fucking promise, Seth." He forces himself to restrain his temper. "Can I just go now?"

Seth sighs but steps aside, and Dean runs past him without looking back. Now that Seth has gone ahead and crossed such a precarious little line, Dean has every intention of turning it around and demanding to know what Seth was doing in the hallway with Randy fucking Orton of all people.

So much for them being brothers who can confide their secrets in each other.

So much for Seth understanding they need to be a united front, not divided by their personal lives.

Dean sighs and files it away for later as he rounds the corner. What he needs to do right now is find his boyfriend and find out what the hell just happened in the ring. Then, and only then, can he take his concern and outrage back to his brothers and beat it into them that this is just _wrong._

And it's such a stupid thing for either of them to hide in the first place.

* * *

_**A/N: So I just want to say, "Wow, thank you so much." Because you guys have backed this story so much and that just makes me feel so humbled. Thank you thank you thank you so, so much.**_


	7. Chapter Seven

_**Misunderstandings**_

Sheamus is still clinging to his United States Championship when he walks into his locker room, fully expecting it to be empty. Instead, as soon as he closes the door, someone jumps up on his back and only his strength keeps him from toppling to the floor with the person on top of him.

"I was watching backstage," a familiar voice purrs in his ear. "You did marvelous, Irish."

The sound of her voice sends pure warmth through Sheamus's body and he turns his head, peering into the smoke gray eyes he's come to know so well. "Thank you, Marta."

She grins and drops down off of his back. "I thought for a moment Ambrose would retain it."

"Which is why I didn't tell you if it was changing hands tonight or not. I wanted you to be in suspense. Just like the fans." He turns to face her, shifting the belt to one shoulder so he can wrap his now-free arm around her waist. "I owe winning it solely to you, though."

"Mm. Perhaps." She grabs a handful of his trunks and pulls him closer.

They've never done anything remotely kinky in the arenas before. After a discussion during the early days of their relationship, they both decided it was too likely someone might walk in on them and spoil what they have together. Besides, he doesn't want to share her when she's in Domme mode for her, and she doesn't want to share him when he submits to her.

Still, now that he's in his locker room and considering all that happened tonight, it seems all too natural to fall to his knees in front of her and place the belt at her feet. She wasn't a part of his life when he was a WWE Champion, but after a while he'll find a way to bring the biggest championship home to her as well. Pleasing her is second nature for him at this point.

She hums softly and combs her fingers through his sweaty hair, not seeming to mind the fact he hasn't had a chance to take a shower yet. It gives him a moment to appreciate her, though, and that's always a nice moment to have. At six feet tall, Marta is the tallest Diva they currently have and unless he is mistake, she might be the tallest period. With naturally dark skin, umber hair that falls in soft waves around her face, and wide gray eyes, she's truly a stunner.

He knows he's lucky to have her, and if not for being very forward in their initial meeting, he might not have her at all. Part of him wanted to back out at the time, considering it seemed so nosy to ask her if she was truly into the same kind of mind games he is, but he persevered and it worked out okay in the end. Now, they've settled into a much more permanent sort of relationship and he hopes it works out even though most of the relationships between Superstars and Divas fail in the end simply from having far too much contact with each other.

Marta clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "It's been very testy backstage lately."

"You noticed that, too?" Sheamus breathes a sigh of relief and relaxes; he'd noticed the growing tension long ago but has never been able to really figure out what might be causing it. All he knows is that it's _something_ to do with the Shield. "Any idea what it might be, ma'am?"

"I have an idea. I just don't know if I put much faith in it. It seems problematic at best." Marta hums to herself and he studies her quietly, trying and failing to read her expression.

She cocks her head at him, one eyebrow raised, silently asking him if he knows anything about what might be going on. That, at least, he can read. "I'm not entirely sure, but every time the Shield walk into a room, it's tense. I think they've something to do with it, ma'am."

"Mm. Funny." She gestures for him to stand, and he picks up the belt and does. "I thought so."

He cocks his head at her but she waves it away and moves over to where his bag is sitting on a bench, opening it and rifling through the contents. Chuckling softly, he leans back against the wall with the belt resting over his shoulder; it doesn't surprise him she'd want to dress him at all given the fact she has to have done it at least three dozen times by now. It isn't something she indulges in on what he would consider a regular basis, not by a long shot, but still often enough for him to be okay with it. It seemed a little stifling at first, but really she just picks out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for him to throw on after his shower. It's nothing he wouldn't wear anyway.

At least, when they're in public it's nothing he wouldn't wear anyway.

Marta finally seems satisfied with what she's chosen and passes the clothes in his direction, along with the emerald green towel he's taken to bringing with him instead of one of the generic white ones. During their second scene, she'd shown an interest in seeing green on him, and he likes to humor her sometimes. He's come to appreciate the deep greens just as much as she does; they're nice to look at, really. He's also come to appreciate himself just a bit better as well.

"You take your shower and I'll see what I can find out from the other Divas. I'm sure someone knows something with the way the gossip flies around here." She rolls her eyes and he laughs, shaking his head at her but nevertheless accepting the pile of fabric and leaving the belt behind.

He can't help but smirk up at her. "Let's take that back to the hotel with us, shall we?"

Her answering grin quickly turns lecherous and he ducks out of the room, heading down the hallway toward where he knows the locker room is. Perhaps he might be able to pick up on some of the gossip as well, particularly from the mid card wrestlers who have nothing much better to do with their evenings since most of them never get the chance to wrestle. He makes a mental note to find Drew as quickly as possible because the Scot literally knows everything that goes on.

Not that he has to go far to find him. "You bastard! I ought to knock your bloody head off!"

"Wade, it was an accident!" Quickly Sheamus rounds the corner to the mid card locker room and blinks as he measures the scene. "Oh for Christ's sake, somebody pull him off of Show!"

"Step on _my_ boyfriend's face and think you're going to get away with it, do you?" Wade demands, landing another blow on the giant's face that echoes through the room sharply.

Poor Heath, who was still trying to talk sense into Wade, gets an arm around the older man's middle and tries to pull him back to no avail. "You're going to break his face, Wade."

Normally, Sheamus would sit back and watch this to see how it unfolds since the Big Show is, in fact, larger than Wade. But Wade is beyond furious right now and not only does Sheamus have experience with just how out of control Wade can become in this state, but he can also see blood already smeared across Wade's knuckles. He sighs and quickly sets his things on a bench, joining Heath in grabbing Wade by the waist and dragging him back from the bigger man. And they have to keep a firm grip because the bearer of bad news refuses to stop swinging punches.

"What happened?" Sheamus demands, getting Wade in a headlock and trying to bear him down to the ground to at least temper some of those aggressive displays.

Heath is too distracted to answer the question and Sheamus says an internal prayer of thanks when Drew appears from behind them and helps pin Wade to the locker room floor. In his condition, he needs to be held down until some of his anger can drain out of him. The fact it takes two guys his size plus a slightly smaller man to do so is just a testament to how strong Wade is and how fiercely he will protect those he loves. At least, Sheamus _thinks_ that's what happened. He wasn't paying much attention during the match, but he knows Heath was in it and tried his best not to actually hurt the small Southern ginger for fear of Wade's volatile reaction.

Drew manages to get himself stretched across Wade's long legs, glancing up to meet Sheamus's gaze with a wry smile. "During the battle royal, Show stepped on Heath's face. Not that he hurt him or anything, but this _moron_ thinks it's his job to defend Heath's honor just the same. Looks like he did a hell of a job before I got back here to help. He okay, O'Shaunessy?"

"Yeah, he's good," Sheamus says, checking the pressure of his hold to make sure he's merely holding Wade down and not actually, y'know, choking the guy out or anything.

"Let. Me. Go." Wade writhes against the floor and Sheamus just shakes his head at the demand he's not about to humor. Not when Wade is still ready to break noses and bloody faces.

Heath starts to sit up, as if making sure Drew and Sheamus can hold Wade down themselves, before actually pulling away and crawling around to kneel in front of Wade's face. It blocks his view of Show, which is probably for the best because Jesus _Christ_, the guy is bleeding, and it hopefully also reminds Wade that Heath is just fine. At least as far as Sheamus can tell, Heath looks fine; there's no redness or bruising on his face so Show must have been very careful about stepping on his face. Not everyone knows how to be that careful.

Of course, though, _some_ people can't just let things simmer down. "You know," the all-too-familiar voice of Curtis Axel calls out, "I thought you'd be angrier about Show touching his ass."

Wade snarls and rears up, and Sheamus almost loses his hold on him as a result, shooting a glare at the second generation wrestler while he tightens it once again. _Don't make me hurt you, Barrett, please. I don't want to hurt you, you're dating one of my best friends._ Drew actually has to roll over onto Wade's back so he's basically pinning most of Wade's body himself, burying his face against Wade's shirt but Sheamus can _still_ hear the Scotsman trying to muffle his laughter. Oh, Sheamus knows very well what Curtis was talking about and he's honestly surprised that wasn't the real reason Wade was going after the bigger man. Since Wade claimed both the Southern redhead and the Scottish brunette, the men in the locker room have made it a point to flirt suggestively with both of them just to inflame Wade. Which worked really well for Big E, didn't it? Sheamus smiles wryly at the memory and shakes his head.

"I will fucking _murder_ you, you—" Sheamus sighs, clapping a hand over Wade's mouth.

Dolph and Kofi seem to realize things have gone past the point of no return and hurry Show away—or walk him away briskly because big men aren't really good at hurrying in the first place and Show is one of the biggest. Only when the man is out of sight does Wade finally flop down on the floor, breathing harshly and shaking his head. Sheamus chuckles and pets his hair for lack of anything else to do, and both Heath and Drew relax noticeably. Honestly, Sheamus isn't sure if they should relax because Wade can always fly off into a frenzy at any given moment.

"Feeling better, Brit?" Heath asks, tilting Wade's head up gently. Sheamus debates for a moment before gently releasing his chokehold and helping the other man sit up properly.

"Yeah," Wade grunts, rolling his neck and shooting Sheamus a dirty look before turning back to Heath. "Sorry, love. Just… When I saw him do that, I couldn't let him get away with it."

Sheamus sighs and shakes his head, clapping Wade on the shoulder. "Fella, you have to let the others do their jobs. Now, if they were to botch and actually hurt him, by all means. Kill them."

"And I'm fine. See, my face is fine. It doesn't hurt. He didn't apply any pressure at all." Heath tilts his head, gesturing to the area of his face that apparently had been under Show's boot.

Sheamus waits to make sure the little group is okay on its own, then lightly punches Drew in the shoulder and nods toward the showers in a silent _follow me_ gesture he hopes neither Wade nor Heath pick up. It goes all right when he tells them he'll be right back, that he wants to talk to Sheamus about the match and not telling them the title was going to change hands, and sure, part of it will be that. Sheamus will humor him and make the words not a lie so Drew won't have any guilt to feel. Then he'll demand to know what Drew knows about pretty much everything.

They pick a secluded corner to shower in, which involves sharing a showerhead but Sheamus is so beyond caring about it at this point. They've shared showers before and after that little evening with Marta and Orton… Well, it's nothing now to be near another man. "Do you know anything about what's been going on where the Shield is concerned? It's been tense lately."

"Ambrose and Cesaro are having a little trouble in paradise," Drew explains, and Sheamus nods slowly. Of course they are; Heyman is interrupting their relationship. "And they seem to think Reigns is running around with someone but nobody seems to know who it is."

"Any ideas about who it is?" Sheamus asks, hoping Drew has _something_ for him.

Drew glances around and that's Sheamus's cue to step in a little closer because Drew obviously wants nobody else to hear what he's about to say. Not surprising; word gets around too fast and it might get to the higher-ups. Best to keep things between friends instead. "I could be wrong, and don't quote me on this, but he and Helmsley have been getting a little cozier than usual."

"Are you serious?" Sheamus's voice is a little louder than he intends and a few people glance over, but he just scowls at them and they look away. Being his size has its advantages. Then he turns back to Drew. "Hunter is married. Why would he be fooling around with Reigns?"

"He's been fooling around for years the way I hear it. Flirted with me a few times during my early months but I never thought anything of it." Drew shrugs and Sheamus doesn't doubt that.

But God, Hunter Helmsley and Roman Reigns? That's just a disaster _waiting_ to happen. "I think I see why you don't want that to get around when you can't confirm it. That'd ruin them both."

"Exactly. And if it's true and it _does_ get out, you know McMahon will be on Helmsley and Reigns. Probably kick them both out of the company just to protect his precious daughter." Drew smirks slightly and leans closer, speaking directly into Sheamus's ear. "But I do know one thing, O'Shaunessy. I know that that day in the training room when Helmsley was helping Reigns hit the heavy bag, they both walked off. And neither of them came back."

* * *

**_A/N: So, even Drew knows about Roman and Hunter being together. Or at least he suspects it. This chapter is kind of one of those that'll be thrown in to flesh out the rest of the roster around our main six people. After all, having things put into perspective is kind of nice, right? For those of you who don't recognize Marta, that's because she's an OC who made her official debut in another story of mine called They Don't Understand You. If you want to get a better insight into her relationship with Sheamus, that is totally your in._**

**_The next few chapters are going to follow this episode of Raw pretty closely and then violently explode away from that direction, so don't be surprised when the timeline goes whack._**


End file.
